THE FIRING SQUAD PT. 3

(Continued From THE FIRING SQUAD PT. 2)

The ravenous-looking coyotes continued to stare menacingly at the stupid daddy. Their cruel, gold eyes fixed on the cumbersome SNUGLY sling and it's tempting, $40 per bottle, Mustela baby shampoo-scented 'package.' As the exhilarating, narcotic effects of the magic RED BULL potion had worn off a mile or two back, the daddy returned to his natural state of neurotic, unproductive self-loathing.

"How could I have been so dumb, so ridiculously unprepared?" The foolish daddy asked himself as the famished coyotes began to boldly circle him and the magical baby.

Hadn't the daddy watched every episode of WILD KINGDOM as a child? Hadn't the daddy recently developed an unhealthy relationship with ANIMAL PLANET not for it's informative animal-centric programing nor inspiring message of ecological conservation, but rather it's bounty of incredibly hot naturalist dudes who tended to host shows in far-flung, steamy jungle habitats that necessitated removal of their sweaty shirts revealing their six-pack abs and bulging pecs? Even worse, had the daddy learned nothing from those fascists at Fox News who joyfully featured the lurid story of some crazy, leftist rock climber who pinned under a two-ton boulder, and possessing no cell phone, resorted to cutting off his own arm with a hunting knife to escape death? Faced with that kind of fucked-up predicament, unlike the leftist hiker, the daddy who had spent buckets of money on over-priced manicures and Kiehl's hand cream, would have remained pinned under that rock, and would have wound up looking like a Lycra-clad version of those chained-up skeletons you see at THE PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN ride at Disneyland.

With an extremely unpleasant coyote attack facing the daddy and the magical baby, the scared-to-death daddy's first instinct was to remain motionless and blend-in with the picturesque, indigenous setting of Griffith Park, which consists primarily of dirt, sage brush, weeds, newspaper scraps and used condoms. The having-seen-it-all coyotes were not at all impressed with the daddy's douchy, Jewish American Princess-inspired powers of camouflage. Even the oldest, frailest, most sight-impaired coyote would have little difficulty spotting the dopey daddy's snow white John Varvatos tshirt, glittering Cartier watch, and highly reflective, Nike Day-Glo hiking shoes. As the coyotes closed in, the daddy and magical baby were on the brink of being tragically torn to shreds not only for the dumb daddy's careless planning but for his criminal, J.A.PPY sense of fashion.

All at once, the daddy remembered an episode from THE JEFF CORWIN EXPERIENCE, where the super cute Jeff Corwin, the married, yet slightly lispy 'naturalist' with the blinding Pepsodent smile, gym-worked biceps, and perfectly groomed eyebrows (you do the math) was able to fend off a hungry bear by athletically jumping on a boulder and shouting at the top of his resonant, 'flamboyant' voice. The frightened bear took one look at glittery Jeff, turned and high-tailed it out of there, clearly having lost his appetite after Jeff's knowing, uncanny impersonation of a screechy preteen girl at a BRITNEY SPEARS concert.

The formerly immobilized, paralyzed-with-fear daddy, inspired by his ANIMAL PLANET fantasy lover, er...hero Jeff Corwin, grabbed a fallen tree branch and while shouting 'FUCK YOU, SONS OF BITCHES!' at the top of his own wildly lispy, queer-as-a-three-dollar-bill voice rushed the suddenly caught-off-guard coyotes.

(To Be Continued)